


Contemplation

by Evenseven



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Family Issues, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, Mental Health Issues, No Beta, Self-Doubt, Teen!Aragorn, like so many issues, this is really depressing, without the comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28795743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evenseven/pseuds/Evenseven
Summary: The sky was so low that it looked like it’s falling on him.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel & Elrond Peredhel, Aragorn | Estel & Glorfindel
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Contemplation

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this half asleep.  
> Warning again, this is kinda sad.

The sky was so low that it looked like it’s falling on him. Estel laid on the ground, feeling the soft grass tickling his neck and gazing afar to the deep inked night sky. The stars were dim tonight, no heavy clouds yet the sky felt so truncated. No gentle breeze to dry the tears that kept blurring his vision.

He had tried, not to let the tears fall, and he was tired of trying at this point.

Weak. The voice in his head growled at him. That’s why you’re so useless, in anything, to anyone.

He bit down on his lips and tried to control his breath, silently dismissing the cruel voice. But it wasn’t that easy, either eliminating the dark thoughts or calming down his rapid breathing.

Not useless...But definitely stupid. Estel sat up, balancing himself with palms down on the grass. He was so stupid, stupid enough to think he could ever make a difference, he could prove himself different than all other humans in Erestor’s history books.

But no, of course not. He was a mere human, a weak race and inferior child to the high Elves of Imladris. Except that he was not a child any more, he was a young man at the age of fifteen, yet his Ada still saw him as an innocent, incapable, immature child.

It was only a patrol at the border, guards reported rapidly growing orc activities that might be related to the Eastern shadow. Lord Elrond had decided to send out all his best Elven soldiers to investigate, and when Estel volunteered to go along for an extra hand, the Lord of Imladris turned him down without a blink.

He was given no further explanation than he was somehow “not skilled enough”, just the day after Elrond had witnessed his sparring with Elladan and had prized his stunning improvement. He might have raised his voice, the temper was accelerated and harsh words were exchanged, until he was accused of “being senseless and immature”.

It was his fault, he recognized it now clearer than ever. It was the rage and impulsiveness that he had been trying, and failing, to control all these years. The human traits that made him weak, not Elf-like, not good enough, just never good enough...

Estel’s thoughts wandered away, but he pulled back to the matter he was contemplating by blinking fast and hard so his teary eyes hurt even more. He was at fault to loss his temper when Elrond gave him that icy gaze, the same gaze he received only followed by repudiated utterance to end their conversation. Elrond seldom raised his voice at him, most of the time just a cold remark to send him away and “reconsider his own mistakes”. And most of the time, he was indeed at fault and should have thought about his action before it was done. So he learned to reevaluate everything he had done, every word he had uttered, every little mistake he had made, every decision that should have been weighted better. He would sat in the corner of his own chamber, hugging his knees and gazing through the glass wall to the stars like now. He would be pacing around the garden fountain, so many lapses till his legs weakened. He would run away, hiding under some small caves and valleys and rethink his actions over and ever again, until he couldn’t take it anymore, until he was buried away by guilt or confusion.

Though he didn’t want to admit, Lord Elrond was always right. The assertive high Elf was known for wisdom among his kins, so what was him to question the Lord about...the judgement of his own ability.

Today he did something wrong, something did not deserve forgiveness. He barked at the Lord accusing his love for him, and said that he would rather be with other petty mortals. He should’ve never said that, he recognized it now, so he would not blame Elrond for rising his hand, almost connected with his cheek, then it suddenly converted into a distant gaze.

“If you want to go so badly,” Lord Elrond had said, seemed calm and reserved at once, “Then go, and don’t come back.”

So he ran away, deep into the forest where no one would hear him cry. Exhaustion and hurt made him lay down on the grass, and the sky was so low he couldn’t breathe. He was freezing in the cold night, since he didn’t care to bring a coat, but it was a good kind of cold. The coldness forced him to think even harder, concentrating on the contemplation without distraction of sleep.

He was suffocating, but it was also good. It kept his mind straight and simple, his body did not need that much breathing anyway. He was at no use after all, no capable of defending the land he loved, not wanted to be in sight of he ones he loved.

Maybe it would be good, too, to not breathe at all.

So he closed his eyes, just for a moment of rest. Then he would think about his future, maybe he would be able to find a place among mortals that he could fit in after all.

*

The morning sun ray never hurt so much to his eyes, and when Estel reluctantly squeezed his red-shot eyes open, the glow of a familiar golden-haired elf hurt even more than the daylight. 

Glorfindel was the one found him lying on the grass, the Balrog Slayer knelt beside him, his golden head blocked away a part of the grey dawn sky. “Estel!” The elf exclaimed, frowning in concern as his crystal blue eyes examined him over, “You gave me quite a fright! I thought you were dead.”

“I’m not dead.” Yet. Estel blinked slowly, trying to come to sense of his surrounding, but the sympathy and loving in Glorfindel’s eyes were too much to bear. He sat up again, swallowing down the dizziness came in waves and forcing himself to meet the elf’s gaze. “Lord Glorfindel,” Estel was well aware that he only called the elf “Lord” when he was really in distress, but too tired to correct himself now, “Why are you not at the border?”

With no surprise, Glorfindel frowned even harder, now he even looked a bit like Ada…No, Lord Elrond. “Elladan and Elrohir were already set out with other riders, they could do without me for a few days.”

Why are you here? Estel wanted to ask, why are you here with me?

“I…We, worry for you,” the elf said, “Come, let me walk you back before I set off to the border.”

Estel merely shook his head, “No, I was…” Exiled. Abandoned. Tossed away. Maybe they shouldn’t take him in the first place, and realizing that this mortal burden was stuck only too late.

His breath was caught in the throat again, every beat of his heart hurt, and all the gloomy thoughts from the previous night came back instantly.

It’s too bright, the elven grow of the golden warrior, so beautiful and stunning, but it was too bright so Estel had to shut his stung eyes tight. A drop of tear might have fallen, or two, he couldn’t keep track of them when it was so hard to breathe. The darkness before him was blinding, yet it was much more comfortable than looking at the charming elf. It was not polite, he knew it perfectly. Glorfindel was like a father to him all the time they spent together, the Balrog Slayer cared about him with all the kindness he didn’t deserve, but it hurt so much just to look at the First-born without thinking about Lord Elrond…his Ada.

“Estel…” Glorfindel’s voice was ever so soft, and even with his eyes close, Estel could sense the elf moved closer to touch his shoulder, so he flinched back by instinct. “Estel, look at me,” the elf’s voice grew firmer, “Your ada is also worried about you, he…”

Estel fixed his eyes on the elf, yet the faint blue in those silver orbs was sombre and unfocused. “Lord Elrond was right,” he managed to whisper a few more words, startled by the hoarse in his voice, “I wasn’t…I shouldn’t…”

His mumbling was cut off by the golden warrior all of a sudden, “Your ada was wrong. He isn’t always right about everything…but he cares about you, truly.”

“He just banished me from his home.” There were a thousand apologies Estel could think of, had been taught about, yet the only line came out of his mouth sounded like a pitiful complain from an unloved child, and he hated himself for it. “I’m sorry, my lord,” Estel casted down his eyes on the dew that was dripping from the tip of the greenery, unable to stop the tears from emerging, “I don’t think I should go back.”

Estel knew he had to go back somehow, even if he’s banished from the realm. He didn’t bring any belonging with him, so he would not make it far enough to leave Imladris. Yet thinking about going back to face his foster father…Maybe he didn’t need anything more from the Elf Lord, nothing was really his anyway. Maybe he would walk towards the border, and maybe he would get a chance to say goodbye to his twin brothers if he was lucky.

“Estel, you are not banished. Elrond did not do that, and I will not allow it.” Glorfindel reached out a hand again, this time his pale fingers landed on Estel’s shoulder despite the flinch.

Asking him not to return sounded like an exile enough.

“I don’t know how…” Estel tried to speak up again, but it never was easy, especially when he’s shaking from cold and fatigue. The hand squeezed tenderly on his shoulder, a taciturn encouragement for him to go on. “I don’t know how to be good enough, Glorfy, I don’t.” Estel titled his head up to the clear sky, but it would not prevent the tears from falling. “I am no elf, and I could never be as skilled and graceful as an elf. So how could I be good enough?”

“You are not an elf, and you shouldn’t assess yourself with an elf’s standards.” The crystal blue eyes never left his face, “One day, you will learn to see your true value, Estel. You are meant for no elf, but something greater, some power that could only be wielded by you.”

Estel sighed. “I fear that this day may not come.”

“It will,” the golden elf answered with an intense certainty he had never heard, “I know it will, and your Ada was the one foresaw it…Don’t avert your eyes, young man, please. Elrond loves you as one of his owns, it has never changed.”

“But I keep disappointed him,” Estel was finally able to calm his weeping, red-rimmed eyes dry like there’s no more tear left to shed, “maybe he should had never…”

“It could be hard from times, to see your true worth, but you’re worthy. You are a skilled fighter, an excellent rider, a well educated healer, and you’re worthy of all the love, Estel.”

Glorfindel wouldn’t lie to him, he could sense the sincerity in the elf’s voice. There must be an explanation for things that were happening now, reasons he was not yet wise enough to see. All he had to worry now was getting through his life until that day…

“Come, we shall go back now, you will still catch a late breakfast.” Glorfindel smiled softly, the sorrow in his eyes faded as he held him up from the turf.

But food was the last thing Estel could think of now. He had survived missing a few meals, while he body was exhausted, a restful sleep without nightmare would be the only thing he craved. The young man rubbed his eyes, burning black dots in his vision never decayed. “Will Ada ever forgive me?” He uttered hesitantly.

The Balrog Slayer walked steadily by his side, “He already did. The question is, will you forgive him?”

He thought of his Ada—Grey eyes ever so keen and loving, voice deep and spoken of kindness and wisdom, hands gentle and soothing so many times on his clumsy wounds…Estel was energetic and cheerful most of the time, but when the darkness of the night haunted him in dreams, when he was sweating and screaming awake, Ada was the one that wrapped him tight in his arms, tenderly chasing the nightmare away. He looked up to his Ada, though not blood-bond, Elrond was the first figure in mind when he thought about “family”.

“I love him.” He answered, biting down on his bottom lip silently.

He would made amends with his Ada, even if it would never be the same again. The agony in his heart might never fade, though he knew there would be a time when everything made sense again in his limited mortal life, the time when Elrond would be forthright about what he was worth, the time when he was finally able to accept the gloom in his inferior fate, despite the zealous effort he had been making.

Until then, he only needed to move on with yet another melancholy day.

**Author's Note:**

> So I was trying to say making amends may not be so easy like in all other h/c fics. Haha I failed...  
> Maybe I'd write a sequel for (even more) angsty shit, or not.  
> Plz don't hate me for this lol.


End file.
